Alone in the Moonlight
by Maq
Summary: "So the girl who ate the peach and forgot everything has actually forgotten everything? I don't believe it for a minute." Sometimes the end is the beginning and moving blindly backwards is the only way to repair what was broken. JS.
1. A Very Unusual Gift of the Gab

**Alone in the Moonlight**

_Chapter One: A Very Unusual Gift of the Gab_

From the diary of Sarah Williams:

_I feel strange again, the way I do every Spring. I've been keeping a diary now for eleven years, and sometimes I look back. I like to see what happened "on this day in history". In every single diary I see the same sentence at some point in Spring: "I feel strange again". I can't really convey what the strangeness is. I guess it's like trying to remember a daydream you had long ago. There's a certain placidity to it: complete tranquility. But there's always this underlying current of urgency as well. It's like a tugging behind my navel, or being seasick, and suddenly I'm remembering that I'm forgetting a memory from a dream and I know I have to hold on to that thought. And then the feeling passes. Some years it lasts longer than others. Sometimes I have dreams that go along with The Feeling; things that shouldn't be scary suddenly are, and the walls must have ears because they hear my whispers. Or sometimes they're nice and I see my brother as a happy child and I run in the rain and fall ever so gently to the floor of… somewhere. Somewhere white._

_I wonder why these Feelings and dreams only come in Spring, and why they come at all. _

_Anne was the first person I ever told about the dreams. According to my diary at the time, it was in October of 2002 at Homecoming. She told me she experienced the same type of dreams, and when I say "same" I mean "insanely similar". The only difference seemed to be that she didn't feel serene very often after waking up. We both see cobbled stone walkways, sparkling groves, and a pair of stormy eyes. She still has the dreams, but they come in Autumn for her. And she's had them most of her life, while I've only been having them for apparently eleven or twelve years (as if that isn't long enough)._

_And now I rarely see Anne. So I don't get to explore the strange Feeling and its associated dreams because she's the only person who knows. But I want to find out everything. I don't have a diary entry explicitly stating what may have happened in Spring years ago to spur on this oddness, but I have entries from the year following. "Exactly one year ago tomorrow I went to the Land of Dreams and defeated the king with the mismatched blue eyes. I must never wish again" is dated 'April 29, 2002'. The following day there is written "~10:4 = 5:2 hours". So that means I did something on April 30__th__ of 2001, presumably for either ten or four hours, that was important enough to leave latent memories and feelings but not important enough for my brain to hold on to it fully. I asked Dad and Karen about that date, to see if anything important went on. Nope. I even asked my mother, as if she'd know anything about the fifteen-year-old me, and of course she had no idea either. If I thought hypnosis was legit, I would try that._

_As it is, just writing about the Spring Feeling has made me more thoughtful._

_Maybe I'll have one of the dreams tonight and, if I'm lucky, get another piece to this puzzle. Goodnight. _

She smacked the snooze button on her alarm when it began to whine in long beeps at 8:00. "Sunday," she mumbled.

Eyes still heavy with sleep, Sarah tried to remember any dreams. If there had been any, they were gone now. She yawned and shoved her head beneath her pillow, effectively keeping out the morning light. She always slept in on Sundays; she didn't have anything to do until three. At that point, Sarah would get ready for "family time", as Karen called it. "Family time" had started when Karen had given birth to her second child, Claire, eight years earlier. Sarah was grateful for the Sundays she shared with her father, step-mother, and half-siblings. She knew that as a child she had certainly not appreciated what she had; she remembered focusing so much on hating Karen that she forgot how to treat others with love. So she drove from Atlanta to Athens once a week, had a home-cooked meal (or a dinner out on special occasions), watched a family-friendly movie with Toby and Claire, and had tea and good conversation with her parents.

Resigning herself to a restless morning, Sarah stretched and got up for the day. She walked on sock-feet from her bedroom to the kitchen, painted a bright and cheerful yellow. She recalled the day she had finally moved to her own place, with no parents, no siblings, and no roommate to compromise with. The very first thing she had done was paint that small kitchen. The color reminded her of sunny days spent in the park playing make-believe. It reminded her to smile. Yawning, Sarah pulled a heavy glass from the cabinet and filled it with high pulp OJ. She gulped it down quickly and poured herself another glass to sip while she waited for her Pop-Tarts to heat. Glancing at her calendar, she sighed.

Two tests this week. Perversely, Hell Week was just as stressful now that she was a teacher as it had been when she herself was in school Her Masters in English earned her a place at a small Atlanta private school, and while the work was rewarding on one level, she wanted to do _more_. She wanted to pick her own curriculum and come up with her own syllabi. That, she lamented, was one of the biggest drawbacks to being a young professor and not an old crone with a bunch of letters after her name. She got to teach classic books chosen by the ancient head of the English Department, and while she enjoyed Robinson Crusoe and Gulliver's Travels, she yearned to teach literature of her own choosing. Tolkien, Rowling, _anything_. "Just once, I wish-"

The toaster ejected the Pop-Tarts at that moment.

_I must never wish again_

Sarah shook her head, as if the action would cause the memory of her journal's words to flee her mind forever. Instead, her thoughts flew back to the ink-stained pages. Now that she thought about it, she went through a phase when she refused to make wishes, even when blowing out birthday candles or spotting a star in the evening light. Curious. She wracked her brain, trying in vain to find the source of that phrase. _I must never wish again_. Nothing. She couldn't remember a wish gone awry. She didn't think she'd ever wished anyone harm, so what was the issue? It was obviously linked to the Spring Feeling in some way. "Might as well ask Dad and Karen again," she said aloud, spitting crumbs as she spoke. "No harm in it."

Late afternoon found Sarah inside her childhood home. "You could've given me a head's up about going out," she sighed. "Karen, I'm not dressed for meeting new people. _Important_ people."

"Oh, nonsense," Karen tittered, giving Sarah a once-over. "At least you're wearing slacks and not jeans or shorts. I'm sorry I forgot to call, honey; this was last minute for me, too. Wrangling the kids into something decent, and washing God knows what out of Claire's hair..."

"I get it, I get it," Sarah conceded. "What's this guy's name again?"

Thundering footsteps echoed from the upstairs hallway, sown the steps, through the living room, and into the foyer. "Mom, he took my book!" "Mom, she smacked me!" "Only because he took my book!" "I just wanted to see it! You probably know it by heart, anyway." "That doesn't mean you can just take it!"

"D something," Karen replied over the shouting. "And this is a very big thing for your father, you know. This Ditty-Fuss what's-his-name is apparently connected to the State Department."

"Ew, get your finger out of my ear!" "Get your ear off my finger!" "Gross, ew, ew, ew! Mom, he's gonna put a booger on me!" "Scared you, didn't I? There wasn't anything on my hand. You better quit bugging me!" "You started it!" "You're the most annoying sister in the world!"

"Well, that's good to know," Sarah said, pulling Toby and Claire into a hug. "Am I the second most annoying, or am I in good standing?"

"Hey, Sarah," Toby said as he squirmed out of the embrace. "No, you're pretty cool. Not like Little Miss Bossy Pants over there."

"I am _not_ bossy," Claire countered, shaking a tangled mass of dark hair from her shoulder dramatically. "I'm just a natural leader. I bet I'm a princess reincarnated."

"Yeah, you're a real Georgia peach," Toby sneered, rolling his eyes.

Karen's jaw was a little slack as she exchanged a surprised glance with Sarah. "Reincarnated? Where on earth did you learn that word?"

"Just be happy that your eight year old daughter knows how to use a brand new five syllable word in context," Sarah put in. "She probably heard it on TV, or even better, maybe she read it in a book."

"It was TV, and I didn't know what it meant so I guessed the spelling and Googled it," Claire explained.

"You were on the computer without my permission? And look at how you've ruined your hairdo; it was so nicely curled. Toby, tuck in your shirt and for the love of Mary stop bothering your little sister," Karen commanded.

"She started-"

"Toby, that's enough. I'm not going to put up with this. You two will pretend to love each other and be on your very best behavior or God help you, I'll bring down a fury the likes of which you've never seen from me." Silently Karen began to rearrange Claire's hair, and Toby quietly sidled into the living room. Sarah followed.

The youth was flustered as he flopped onto the tidy white sofa. Sarah recognized his expression; she had worn it as an annoyed child far too often. Toby huffed and folded his arms across his chest, looking for all the world like he would explode. "Was your mom that mean, Sarah?" he asked after a moment.

"Well..."

"Don't say that Mom isn't being mean, because she is. Look at her, fixing Claire's hair and doting on her like she really is some princess."

"Trust me, your mom does _not_ think Claire is regal in any way right now. She's only gone quiet because she knows if she says something it'll come out as a scream. She used to treat me that way, too, so I know what I'm talking about."

"You acted bad like that? I mean, I know you always say you were a brat..."

"I was ten times the brat Claire is on her worst day. I didn't _think_ I was a princess, I positively _knew_ I was one. I was awful to my parents- and even worse to your mom. But to answer your initial question, no. My mother never treated me like that; she was never around to treat me poorly or well."

Toby groaned. "This is the part where you tell me that I'm lucky to have a mom at all, right?"

"Your words, kiddo," Sarah smirked. Toby gave her a disgruntled glare. "Oh, right. You'll be thirteen in a few months. I've been calling you 'kiddo' since you were born; old habits die hard. I'll learn." She smiled, content among the chaos, until she heard the garage door open.

"Sounds like Daddy's home, guys," she announced.

In the ensuing madness, Sarah managed to kiss her father on the cheek, apply some mascara, and snag a glass of water; Claire managed to ruin her hair again; Karen managed to issue a few orders without exploding, and Robert managed to give the family a few details and instructions.

"Okay everyone, calm down for a minute," Robert said. "We are meeting with Captain H. L. Didymus, a decorated war hero from England. Whatever you do, do not stare at his face. He only has one eye-"

"-does he wear an eye patch on it, or-"

"Yes, Claire, he wears an eye patch. Now, he is not an old man, but he's not... well, I'm told he has very strict principles. This means you are to be on your very best behavior and that you are to use every bit of etiquette you know. We'll be dining at a pricey establishment, so in all likelihood there will be more than one fork. _Remember_ _your_ _forks_. Do not speak unless an adult addresses you directly, and be more polite than you've ever been in your lives. My future- and the future of this family- depends upon Captain Didymus's assessment. Questions? No? Good. Let's go."

The family of five piled into Robert's immaculate SUV, fastened their seatbelts, and headed toward what Sarah thought would be a dreadful night. As soon as that thought became primary, her brother and sister, one on each of her sides, began bickering.

"Mom, tell Dad how _bad_ Toby was being today." Sarah heard Karen mumble something about a migraine.

"Let's go over your book," Sarah suggested, giving Claire an encouraging smile. The little girl brightened; Toby groaned. "Hey, she can't bug you if she's occupied," Sarah whispered conspiratorially to Toby. He gave a half-smile.

"Okay, so you listen to my part, and then I'll tell you what to say. Wait- I don't have my book! Toby took it!"

"But we both have it pretty well memorized, don't you think?" Sarah said quickly.

"Yeah. Yeah, we do. So _I_ say- The baby was a spoiled child and wanted everything for himself, and the young girl was practically a slave. Say your right words, the goblins said, and we'll take the baby to the Goblin City, and you will be free!"

"You got it mixed up," Toby groused.

"I did not! I said it just right, didn't I Sarah?"

"You did a marvelous job," Sarah replied, "but you forgot one teensy-weensy thing."

"I did?" Claire sounded horrified.

"Don't worry, it's no big. Just before the girl says what the goblins whisper, there's the line that starts with 'But what no one knew...' Now you finish it."

"What no one knew? I don't know that part."

"Sure you do! C'mon, say it with me. But what no one knew was that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and he had..." Sarah stopped, seeing Claire's confusion.

"That's not in the book," she asserted.

"Sure it is! I started with that play when I was your age; I could recite it in my sleep."

"Not in there. You're wrong."

"I really, really hate to agree with the she-devil over there, but she recites that book all the time, and I've never heard a word about the king loving the girl."

"I've been reading that story for nineteen years. There's no way I'm wrong. I'll show you right where it is when we get home."

The SUV pulled up to Milledge Ave. just after six o'clock. "We're a few minutes late," Robert fretted.

"Isn't that supposed to be a good thing?" Toby asked.

"Not when meeting someone like Captain Didymus," his father replied. "It is always best to be punctual for situations like these."

"Reservations for Didymus," Karen supplied the maître d.

Their table was in the center of the restaurant. Already seated was the Captain. He was a strange looking man, and certainly not what Sarah had expected. She thought he would be large, gruff, and perhaps scarred from battle. Instead, he was a small man. He had a dark, beady eye and a menacing patch beneath overlarge eyebrows. His nose was turned up and his lips were thin, hidden beneath an impressively bushy mustache. His swept-back hair was russet with just a hint of silver showing at his temples. He rose as the Williams family approached. Sarah felt as if he was paying close attention to her, and met his stare with one of her own as her chair was pulled out for her. She looked away first.

"Captain Didymus, it is a pleasure to see you again," Robert said. "Allow me to introduce my family. My wife, Karen, and my children Claire, Toby, and Sarah."

"Verily, it is wonderful to meet your family, Robert," Didymus responded.

Sarah nearly choked in surprised. _Verily? _Wasn't that rather archaic? And the Captain's voice was high-pitched, squeaky, and not at all authoritative. She wondered what this man, seemingly so weak, had done to rise so high in the British military. Maybe his torso was riddled with bullet holes. She decided to put it out of her mind.

"We are all pleased to make your acquaintance, Captain," Karen answered with a nervous smile and false bravado.

"All well and good, all well and good," the Captain returned. "I must certainly say you make a lovely picture." Karen beamed. "I ordered a bottle of Stuhlmuller chardonnay for the table. I hope you all enjoy it."

"Oh, how generous of you, Captain!" Karen exclaimed.

"Do they have Coke or Pepsi here? I want a Coke," Claire interjected. Sarah pinched her leg under the table. "What? Oh, right. _Don't speak unless spoken to and remember your forks_. Sorry." Toby slapped his palm to his forehead, clearly annoyed. Sarah pinched him, too. Instead of whining, Toby simply regained his posture. Sarah was impressed; he really wouldn't be 'kiddo' for much longer.

He and Sarah remained silent and upright while their parents and Captain Didymus conversed. The same could not be said for Claire, who slumped, pouted, and whined every time someone spared her a glance. "Shall I take her outside, Karen?" Sarah asked during one of Claire's moping moments.

"Please do," her step-mother replied with visible relief.

"No, no, I won't hear of it!" Didymus exclaimed. "She is only a child, after all, and all of this adult conversation must be terribly boring for her. I do commend young Toby; his manners are rather good. Now, we must see what Miss Claire would like to discuss. Fair maiden?"

"How'd you lose your eye?" Claire asked bluntly. Robert choked on his chardonnay and Karen brought her hand to her mouth in shock.

"Claire!" Robert chastised, "apologize to Captain Didymus _this instant_."

"No need for apologies, Robert. She's simply curious; it's only natural. Now, how do _you_ think I lost my eye?"

"Well, you're an army man, so I think somebody shot it. Or maybe you did it with a pencil on accident."

"Do you have any guesses, Master Toby?"

"I wouldn't presume to make a guess, sir."

"My, but he is polite! Alas, fair Claire, my eye was neither shot nor pierced by a pencil. It was taken as a trophy by the enemy." The nonchalance with which he said this caused all at the table to gape. "Why do you stare? Do I have salmon in my mustache?"

"No, sir," Sarah said. "I'm afraid we were taken aback by your candor. Please accept our apologies for staring; it was rude of us."

Didymus nodded, his thin lips curling into a smile. "Well, my lady, you've certainly changed since our last meeting."

"Pardon?"

"When last we met, you were a tad uncouth. You are much less abrasive now. I believe HIs Majesty would be pleased to hear it."

Her eyebrows knitted together. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else, sir. You and I have never met before tonight." An uneasy silence came over the table as Didymus and Sarah examined one another. Toby gave a small cough.

"When you say 'His Majesty', do you mean Prince Charles, Captain? Or does Elizabeth Windsor have a husband? I'm not well informed on politics."

Silently Sarah thanked Toby for breaking the tense quiet and made a mental note to buy him something outrageously expensive.

"No- no, Master Toby. I'm not referring to the British monarchy at all," Didymus replied. His beady black eye never left Sarah's face. "Curious," he said, then turned his attention away from the Williams children and resumed discussing state affairs with Robert.

Sarah left the restaurant shaken. "He was a strange man, don't you think?" she asked her family. "The way he spoke, and how he looked at me..."

"He was definitely eccentric," Robert agreed diplomatically.

"To say the least," Karen continued. "Using fancy titles with you three was unexpected. It was just... weird."

"Come now, he's foreign. We don't know his customs or the vernacular of England. Plus he showed great patience with Claire."

"Wrap it up pretty as you please, he was still odd. Oh, and Toby, you behaved so well tonight that I'm going to give you an extra hour on your Wii this week."

"Sweet!" Toby exclaimed. "I mean... thanks, Mom."

"What do _I_ get?" Claire asked.

"_You_ get no dessert for the next five days. Your behavior was terrible, and could have possibly ruined a successful business relationship."

"But Mom, that's not fair!" Claire cried.

"You say that all the time, Claire, and I really wish you would just stop. One more word out of you tonight and you won't be going to Rebecca's sleepover next weekend."

_I must never wish again._

As Claire began to sob, Sarah suddenly remembered her question. "Hey Dad, Karen," she began, "do you remember why I started that 'no wishes' phase I had? I found something about it in my old diary and can't for the life of me remember."

Robert looked thoughtful for a moment- then snapped back to reality when he ran a stop sign and almost hit a coupe. "Jesus," he breathed.

"Pay attention to the road, Robert," Karen scolded, "and stop crying, Claire. Now, Sarah... You stopped wishing when you were... fourteen? fifteen? I recall you coming up to me, crying your heart out, apologizing for being, and these are your words, a childish bi- _B-Word_. You said you'd never make another wish again, just in case it came true. Took you a while before you would say 'I wish' even in a casual situation."

"So I just didn't want wishes to come true? That was all the explanation I gave?"

"As far as I can remember. Honestly, I only barely recall that part, and I probably would have no recollection of the conversation at all had you not called yourself a bi- _B-Word_."

The rest of the brief car ride passed in silence.

Once home, Sarah kissed Claire on the head, hugged her dad and Karen, and pulled Toby aside. "I owe you big, kiddo, for jumping in when that man got creepy. Name something and it's yours."

Skeptical, Toby raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?" Sarah nodded. "All of the Percy Jackson books- in hardback."

"Perfect. I'll have them for you next week. Now go to bed before your mother has a conniption; it's late."

The drive back to Atlanta was taxing. Not only was Sarah tired, but she couldn't get Captain Didymus out of her mind. She knew somehow that his endearments had not been colloquialisms. She also knew that he genuinely believed they had already met. A strange tingling started in the back of her mind and didn't go away until she was home, snuggled up with her favorite blanket and her diary.

_No luck in finding out why I wouldn't make wishes for so long. Something weird happened, though. A very strange man, an associate of Dad's from England, thought he knew me. It was creeping me out, some of the things he said. And he kept looking at me strangely. Weirdest of all, though I didn't recognize it at the time, was when he said "His Majesty would like to know how different you are" or something like that. Toby (bless his heart) interrupted the Captain's crazy talk by asking which royal this particular 'his majesty' was. The response? Nobody from Great Britain. If he's a Captain in the British army, what 'majesty' would he report to except his own? _

_Come to think of it, how is a British Captain involved with the U.S. State Department, and why would he come to Georgia to meet Dad? Well, I don't know politics. It's still quite unnerving._


	2. With a Look of Surprise

**Alone in the Moonlight**

_Chapter Two: With a Look of Surprise_

She stopped at the gas station on the way to work. "Twenty on five, please." As she handed her credit card to the cashier, a familiar voice popped up behind her.

"Miss Williams?"

"Cody?" She asked. Cody Truman was one of her Juniors, not particularly bright or eloquent, but sweet. "I didn't know you drove."

"Yes ma'am, I just got my license on Saturday. My car ain't much to look at, but she runs pretty good, and that's what counts," he said with a goofy smile.

"As your English teacher, I must tell you that your sentence was atrocious," Sarah replied, her tone full of mock sternness. "As a fellow driver, I must tell you to find old mannequins to shove into your car so you can use the carpool lane. Congratulations, Cody."

"Buy you a coffee, ma'am?" he asked.

"No thank you. I'll see you in class, okay? Drive safely!"

She did not, in fact, see Cody Truman in class that day. She supposed he had decided to skip class to go driving without supervision. Wryly, she grinned; she had done the same thing.

"Remember, tomorrow's test is _not_ open-book or open-notes. With that in mind, I encourage you to memorize- or at least be able to summarize- several lines. Don't simply focus on _To be or not to be_; Hamlet is far more than just those words. Have a good rest of the day."

As the bell for fifth period rang, a voice came over the intercom. "_Miss Williams to the front office please_," it cracked, "_Miss Williams to the front office_." Sarah picked up a stubby piece of chalk and wrote a note on the board: "Re-read the article on nominalism and be prepared to discuss. I will return shortly. -Miss W."

She hurried down the steps to the school's main floor. Glancing at the institution's single trophy case, she smiled. None of the awards were athletic, and the newest was tall and proud; it let everyone know that the JV Academic Team, coached by Sarah Williams, had taken second place in the state competition that year.

Smiling at that memory, she walked into the main office's reception area. "What's up, Cinda? It must be pretty important if it can't wait until lunch." Cinda's face was grim; the normally cheerful and bright woman's gray eyes were lacking their usual luster. Sarah's heart dropped into her stomach. "What's happened?" she asked, voice trembling slightly. She let herself grip the reception desk with white-knuckled strength and steeled herself.

"You got a message," Cinda began, "from the hospital." She cast her gaze to a little pink slip of paper covered in chicken scratch. "There's been an accident."

Sarah snatched the note from the desk and took a deep breath. Licking her lips slowly and taking a deep breath, she began to read: _Claire and your dad are at Saint Joe's._

"I've got to go, Cinda," Sarah said numbly. "Will you explain to the Headmaster for me, see if we can find proctors?"

"Of course," the receptionist replied. "Are you okay to drive, hon? It ain't safe to drive when you're all worked up. Say the word and I'll grab my keys." In that moment Sarah was reminded of her Grandma Williams, all kindness and concern, ready to jump into the fray of a friend's problems.

"Thanks, Cinda, but I... I don't feel like company. I'll be careful, I promise." She rushed to the Teachers' Lounge and grabbed her purse. Her shaking hands fumbled for her car keys; she stomped her foot and let out a small scream as she dropped the keys to the floor. Sarah began to cry quietly when she caught a glimpse of a family photo from the previous summer.

Tromping through a light drizzle to her car, she tried to calm herself. _Maybe it's nothing major. Maybe you're overreacting. Maybe, maybe, maybe... Where's Toby? _She almost flooded her engine when she started the car. _But it has to be pretty bad for them to call work. And why were they so far from Athens that they had to be brought to Atlanta for care? _The tires squealed as she made an illegal U-Turn. _Lordy, what if they were- no, don't play the 'what-if' game. You don't know anything for sure yet. They might just have minor concussions. _She ignored the horns blaring when she ran a red light. _And where's Toby? Was he not with them? Daddy takes them both to school. _It began to rain harder, and the sound of old windshield wipers squealing every few seconds grated her nerves. _It's something terrible, I can feel it. _She finally made a sharp turn into the hospital parking lot. Her sedan was crooked enough to take up two parking spaces.

She sprinted into the ER, which was thankfully sparsely occupied. "Williams," she panted at a nurse. "My dad and sister-" The nurse sighed heavily and pointed to a service desk, then briskly walked away. "Bitch!" Sarah called after her. She staggered the few steps to the service area. "Robert and Claire Williams- I'm family- how are they? Can I see them? How bad is it?"

"Need ID," said a large and imposing man wearing scrubs covered in little puppies. The juxtaposition of the playful dogs on his shirt to his severe brow was almost disconcerting. His fat fingers flew over his keyboard. "Not pretty, Sarah, but you can talk to your step-ma or doctors. Looks like they're both already in surgery."

"Surgery?! Oh my God... Can you take me to where Karen is? The surgery waiting room or whatever?"

"New here. Don't know the way," the man replied, his large brown eyes boring sympathetically into Sarah's. "Maybe they know." He pointed to two elderly gentlemen with laminated badges clipped to their jackets.

"I'll ask them, then," Sarah said, rushing to the men in question without offering her thanks. The men stood at a junction of two hallways. "Excuse me, sirs, but I have to find my way to the surgery waiting area, and quickly. Can you help me? It's imperative that I get there _now_."

"What?" the man on the left shouted. Sarah jumped in surprise. His eyes looked her over quickly. "Have we met?"

"No, please-"

"What? Can't hear you."

"It's no use talking to him; he's deaf as a post," the other man interjected. "Surgery, eh? You need to take this hall-"

"Isn't she the girl? Speak up! Aren't you the one who-"

"Hush, you old coot! Now, Miss, take the hallway to your right, veer right, take a sharp left, ride the elevator up three floors, and you'll be close."

"She couldn't have heard a word you said; you mumble. Terrible conversational skills, I tell you. Follow the signs, girl. They'll lead you straight to where you need to go." He gestured to a sign suspended from the ceiling. "Are you sure you're not the one we're supposed to find?"

"I'm sure, sir. Thank you," she jogged down the indicated path until she was out of breath and at a bank of elevators.

A most unusual fellow was standing between the elevators themselves. His gnarled and crooked fingers could have all been broken, and his ashen face looked to have been made of squished clay. "Which way do you want to go?" he asked Sarah; his gravelly voice was like nails on a chalkboard. Sarah furrowed her brow, puzzled. "Up or down?"

"Oh," she panted. "I guess I'm going up." The man pushed the 'up' button for the elevators, then simply walked away. "This is a really weird hospital," Sarah whispered to herself.

Only as the shiny metal doors closed and she began to ascend did she realize she had never given her identification to the man in the puppy scrubs. _Yet he knew my name_. Brushing off that encounter, she hurried to her destination.

She found Karen slumped in a yellow waiting room chair staring at a television airing the midday news. The woman dabbed at her eyes with what must have earlier been a pristine white handkerchief. It was blotted with mascara and smears of light pink lipstick. She was shedding silent tears, leaving highways of makeup trailing down her wan face. "Karen?" Sarah's stepmother didn't look up. "Karen?" Sarah took a few steps forward, swallowing her own tears and fears. Karen never was able to stay composed in a crisis, and Sarah knew that she would have to be strong enough for the both of them.

"I came as soon as I got the message," Sarah said softly, touching Karen's shoulder gently. Karen didn't start; she simply looked at Sarah for a moment, blinked a few more fat tears from her eyes, and turned back to the news. "Do you need some water? Anything from the vending machines?" Distraught sniffles were her only response.

Sarah sat. While her relationship with Karen had improved greatly over the years, the mother-daughter bond had never completely formed. On Sarah's end, she felt that her only real mother was her biological mother. She didn't understand how to love Karen in the way she loved Linda. Sarah both loved and idolized her mother; for a time she had wanted to _be_ Linda Williams- to have the fame, the adoration of strangers, the gifts, and the handsome boyfriends. Loving Karen was different. She felt, even at present, like Karen was more of the distant aunt type. Birthday cards, occasional trips to a cafe, and pleasant but often superficial chats defined their relationship. On Karen's end, she felt like Sarah was almost as good as one of her own. Karen hadn't had an ideal childhood, and she often focused more on not making her mother's mistakes than she did on proactive parenting of her own. She loved her children in the only way she knew how. There were no stories at bedtime, no hugs when the kids came bounding home from school, and very few freedoms afforded to the typical child. Still, she made sure that Toby and Claire were well-fed, played outside for exercise, and helped them study. This small distance from the children she herself had birthed was magnified with Sarah, partially because the latter initially saw her as an interloper and partially because of Sarah's age. Yet here they sat, more than a decade after their rocky beginning, so different but sharing a common concern. Sarah took Karen's hand. Karen squeezed her fingers. They watched the television screen together, neither paying attention.

Hours later, just as Maxie was going to tell the truth about her baby on _General Hospital_, a doctor finally came to speak with them. Sarah stood immediately, still clasping Karen's hand tightly. Karen remained seated, looking at the physician with bleary, unfocused eyes.

"How are my dad and sister?" Sarah asked, her voice small.

"Mrs. Williams?" the doctor asked gently. "Can you talk to me?" Karen jerked her head down sharply, just once, but didn't rise. The man sat; Sarah followed suit. The three of them simply looked at one another for a few moments, different emotions playing on each face.

"How are my dad and sister?" Sarah repeated.

"Robert is still in surgery," the doctor explained, "and will be for several more hours. The damage is more extensive than we originally thought. We managed to help his right lung, but the left had a small hole as well. His spleen ruptured, and he's suffering from severe internal bleeding. We won't know the full neurological impact from his spinal injury until we're done patching up his insides and can get brain scans. The cranial swelling is ongoing, and we're taking measures to prevent further damage."

"I don't know what any of that means," Karen whispered.

"It means he's still in trouble, and they don't know how much," Sarah told her. She turned back to the doctor. "What about my sister?"

"I'm sorry to say that she died on the table a few minutes ago. The surgeons did everything they could-"

"My sister is _dead_?" Sarah shouted. "How did this happen? And I don't mean medical jargon, but _how _she got hurt in the first place. Karen's too messed up to explain anything to me- I don't know if she's said two words since I got here! And where's my brother? What happened to Toby? How did my father and sister get like this? Is my dad going to die? Oh God, Claire is dead. No, that isn't right; she's _eight years old_. What's going on?"

"There was a car accident, miss. A pileup, four or five cars. Is there anyone I can call for you?"

"No- what- I can't be strong for her anymore, my tiny little sister is dead. Karen, why aren't you saying anything? Damn it, Karen, at least look at me!"

"Toby has the stomach flu," Karen said evenly. "I went to buy vegetables for soup; the police called while I was at the grocer."

"So Toby has been home alone for hours with no idea where anyone is? And our sister is dead. Didn't you at least call a neighbor? God, Karen, how could you be so irresponsible? So _stupid_? Look at me! Look me in the face and tell me why you aren't freaking out, why you left my brother alone, or- or-" Finally she wrenched her hand from that of her stepmother. Covering her face, Sarah began to sob. "I never got to read the _Labyrinth_ play with Claire. I said we'd do it last night, but... Was she mad at me for that? Oh, and Toby! I've got to call Toby..."

She walked into the hallway without a word to Karen or the physician. She pressed her speed-dial for the house and waited for an answer. She managed to hold back a sob just as Toby sleepily asked, "Sarah?"

"Yeah- yes, it's me. Listen, I know you're home alone..." Her voice quivered.

"Been trying to get 'hold of Mom for hours. She was supposed to run to the store and back ages ago. She's not picking up her phone; I must have left six voicemails. You know what's going on?"

"That's why I'm calling, kiddo. I'm with your mom right now- something's happened."

"What kind of something?" Toby asked sharply. Sarah remained silent. "Sarah? You there? What's wrong?"

"It's not something I can say on the phone," Sarah said, voice cracking under the weight of her false serenity. "It's bad."

"What happened, Sarah?" Toby demanded, the weariness leaving his voice. "What's wrong with Mom?"

"She's okay. She's sort of okay."

"What does that even mean?"

"It's Daddy. Daddy and Claire are- were- I'm not sure what happened exactly; your mom isn't lucid enough to tell me. But they were in surgery. Daddy still is."

"And Claire?" Toby asked solemnly.

"She's... she's not in surgery anymore."

"Well, how is she? And how bad off is Dad?"

"I can't say over the phone, Toby," Sarah replied desperately. Her breathing became labored and she had to fight to keep her voice even. "I'm gonna come to the house. I'll come to the house and tell you what I know."

The drive felt obscenely long, and somehow Sarah knew that Karen would forget to call with any news on Robert's condition despite Sarah's repeated requests.

When she walked across the threshold, Sarah found a fully dressed Toby sitting at the dining room table drumming his fingers. "I got some stuff to take- you know, for their hospital rooms. Just a couple pictures from Dad's desk and some of Claire's stuffed animals. Oh, and her book, of course. Now tell me what happened and take me back to the hospital with you."

"Toby," Sarah began, "do you remember how your mom was when her mother died?"

"Yeah," the boy answered slowly. "She got all quiet and wouldn't move."

"That's how she is now. She's distant, just like she was then. So... I warned you about that. Now, um, I guess I'll tell you what I know about what happened. A doctor told me there was a car accident, four or five cars. I don't know whose fault it was, or if they were wearing their seatbelts, or anything like that."

"The news broke in about that," Toby said, visibly frightened. "They said people died." The siblings stared at each other for a long time, each trying to read the other's face. Finally Toby broke the silence. "Is Dad dead?"

"No," Sarah sniffed, "but he has a lot of injuries, and the doctor said he was worse than they initially thought. He's still in surgery, far as I know. Your mom is supposed to call me if she hears anything."

"She won't, though. If she's like she was when Grandma Irene died, she won't be able to." Toby looked down at his hands, fingers still drumming an unfamiliar rhythm on the table. "And you said Claire's out of surgery?"

"Is that what I said?" Sarah asked, confused. "I guess she is... in a manner of speaking." At this point, Sarah could no longer hold in her grief. She threw her hands over her face and sobbed.

"Sarah?" Toby asked quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Should I... should I put Claire's toys back in her room?"

Sarah looked him in the eye. Tears were pooling there, but he was trying to put on a brave face; he didn't want to upset Sarah. "That would be for the best." Toby nodded but didn't leave his seat. "Don't hold it in because of me, Toby. Cry or scream, whatever you need to do."

"Only if you don't hold it in around me," Toby answered in a shaky whisper.

"Deal." Sarah opened her arms and Toby all but flew into them. They held each other tightly, neither having the strength to break the grip. She never wanted to let him go, feeling that if he left the sanctuary of her embrace he would vanish. He thought of every instance he had teased his little sister or made her cry. She thought about how little Family Time they'd shared, and how it would never happen again. She remembered the sound of Claire dramatically crying the night before just because she couldn't have sweets.

"I was so mean to her."

"She knows- knew you loved her, kiddo."

"But just yesterday..."

"And just last week you beat up the kids bullying her in the park. She knew. Don't doubt it for an instant."

Toby froze. "I was supposed to be in the car with them."

"I thank God you weren't. I've never been so thankful for anything in my life. Tell you what, we eat a little and catch our breath before heading to the hospital. I don't think it's wise to drive like this and you need at least some toast in you. Hopefully your mom will have called with good news before I grab my car keys."

From the diary of Sarah Williams:

_I called Mom today to tell her that Dad's on life support and about Claire. She said she'll come out here, but I won't be surprised if she doesn't._

_Everything seems so silly now. Wondering about that ridiculous Spring feeling and such. I don't think I'll dream of blue eyes and wake up serene anymore. I think that Spring will give me nightmares and tears from now on._

_Toby is staying with me for a while. I know it sounds weird since he's almost a teenager, but he's been sleeping in my bed with me. We're essentially each others' only family right now, so I don't mind. I think it comforts us both a little. Anne is here, too. She's helping me plan Claire's mass and funeral. Karen certainly can't do it; she hasn't left the hospital since she first got there. Anne comes from a very large family, so I guess she's done this stuff before. Not with any of her siblings, but probably with grandparents. She's pretty broken up too. She's been around since before Claire was born, so she might as well be family. I suppose it's inappropriate to claim her as a sister when my biological sister isn't even in the ground yet. _

_The news has been covering the accident, giving out names and the conditions of the living. My student Cody Truman died in the same accident. I can't help but think that if I had let him buy me that coffee, he would have been a few minutes behind and he'd be alive today. His service is this coming Friday- two days- and the whole school gets the day off. They're bringing in grief counselors and encouraging the older students to take refresher courses in driving. Besides Claire and Cody, three others died. Four more people (counting Dad) are still in the hospital and one girl has been released. _

_I wonder if you dream when you're in a coma. If you do, I hope to God that Daddy's dreams are about Christmases and birthdays. I hope he doesn't dream about the accident. Someone just rang the doorbell._

Sarah heard Anne unlock the door and could almost make out the quiet conversation. She motioned for Sarah to join her. Silently, so as not to disturb the slumbering boy curled up on her couch, Sarah approached the unexpected visitor.

"Captain Didymus," she gasped. "Would you like to come in?'

"Nay," replied the little man. "I wanted to convey my condolences. I shall be returning home within the hour and could not bear to leave without first checking in on you. The timing of this is very unfortunate, and I sincerely hope it was coincidental."

Sarah's eyebrows furrowed. "What precisely do you mean by that, sir?"

"I enjoyed your sister's spirit," the Captain continued, completely ignoring Sarah's question. "She rather reminded me of you. Does your brother fare well?"

"As well as can be expected," Sarah answered slowly. "You're a very cryptic and strange man, Captain. I don't appreciate it, especially not right now."

"Perhaps you should leave, sir," Anne interjected.

"Thanks, Anne," Sarah sighed, "but I should thank him first."

"Anne? Anne Baker?" Captain Didymus asked. "My, how you've grown these years!"

"Pardon? I don't believe we've met," Anne answered curtly.

"Thank you, Captain Didymus. I'll pass along your condolences to my stepmother," Sarah said, rushing to close the door.

"Remember, my lady," Didymus said as the door swung shut, "Should you need me, just call."

Anne and Sarah shared a glance. "That was weird," Anne declared. "How do you know him?"

"I met him Sunday night; he's an associate of Dad's. Swore he knew me, too. Strange guy. He said he wanted to tell 'His Majesty' about Toby and me, but he wouldn't tell us who precisely 'His Majesty' was. Still, it was nice of him to check on us." She looked puzzled for a moment. "I wonder how he got my address."

"That _is _curious. Maybe he looked you up in the phone book."

"Phone books still exist?" Sarah asked with a chuckle. A groggy moan from behind caught her attention. "Toby, are you feeling any better? Think you can handle some crackers and Gatorade?"

"I feel some better, yeah. Just the Gatorade though, please. I'm sick of Saltines."

Anne hurried into the sunny kitchen to fetch Toby's request. "All out!" she called. "You guys want me to go get some more?"

"I would appreciate that so much, Anne. You're being so good to us," Sarah replied.

"You'd do the same for me," Anne whispered, pulling Sarah into a tight hug. "I won't be long. Love you."

"We love you, too," Sarah answered, tears threatening to fall. "I'll leave the door unlocked in case we fall asleep."

Once they were alone, Sarah sat on her lumpy sofa and put her arms around Toby. "Wanna pop in a movie?"

"No," the boy replied. "I just want to sit with you and think."

"Okay."

"You can't ever leave me, Sarah," he said flatly. "If Dad dies- no, don't interrupt. If Dad dies too, Mom will be a wreck for who knows how long. It was six months for Grandma. This is her _child_. It has to be worse. So she'll be gone for months anyway, but if Dad goes, too... well, it'll be like not having a mom. We'll be each others' only family. Well, besides your mom." Sarah snorted at that. "So you can't leave me. Promise me."

"No one can predict the future, kiddo. Dad could wake up in thirty seconds, but if... if the worst-case scenario does happen, I will _never _leave you alone. Never." Toby buried his head into his sister's shoulder and began to take deep, choking breaths.

"She left her book at home that morning," Toby recounted, "and I can't seem to let it go. I even compared it to yours, to see who was right about the girl having powers. You were both right; I guess they were different editions or whatever. Even though the fairy tale isn't real, I kind of wish it was. I wish _I _could re-order time. Silly, isn't it?"

"Not at all. I wish it, too. I wish we were in a fairy tale world right now."

That's when the electricity failed. Sarah muttered something about getting the landlord, but Toby's eyes were fixed on the door. He whispered her name and pointed.

To her credit, Sarah stood tall and regarded the man in the shadows with mock bravado that came with the fight-or-flight conundrum. "Get out of my house." She pushed Toby behind her. "Get out now or I'll take my gun out of its holster and shoot," she bluffed, pushing Toby further towards the balcony doors.

"Sarah," said a voice from the shadows, "You may be a good actress, but I know when you're lying. Besides, a proper heroine would never yield a firearm, and you always loved to play that part."

"You speak as if you know me," she spat. "Step forward." She pushed her brother further, hoping he knew where her phone was to call the police.

"As my lady commands," the voice replied. Sarah was not at all prepared for what she saw. He shone, and it looked as if pinpricks of light radiated from his unusual clothes. A sparkling cloak of the darkest blue graced his shoulders, and disheveled platinum hair surrounded an angular face bearing stormy blue eyes. _I've dreamed of those eyes. Every Spring I dream of those eyes._ Her mouth went dry and she froze, regretting that she left the door unlocked for even a moment.

"You're him, aren't you? You're the Goblin King." Toby stared in wide-eyed wonder and clutched Sarah's hand.

"Of course. And you are Toby, whom I was told has impeccable manners," he drawled. "Lovely Sarah, I've been briefly apprised of your current heartache. I know the knight thinks I had something to do with it, but I can assure you I haven't the _power_ to orchestrate anything that would affect you so monumentally." The Goblin King was nearly hissing. "But you called and, ever your slave, I came to do your bidding. It is very fortuitous that you chose this moment; I admit that a kernel of doubt had settled in my stomach. The knight tells me you act as if you have forgotten, but with so many familiar faces floating about, I know it to be a very well-portrayed ruse." He paused, cocking his head to the side. "Strange," he murmured, "You gaze at me as if you _have_ forgotten."

"Forgotten what? What are you talking about? Let my brother leave," Sarah demanded. "My friend will be returning any moment; I'll scream and she'll call the cops."

"Still harping on about the little one, I see," he sighed. "Sarah, there's no reason to keep pretending. It's just the three of us, as it should have been in the first place. Now, care to rip into me? Call me a kidnapper? We might as well get it over with before we adjourn."

"Adjourn? Where do you think you're taking us?!" Sarah exclaimed.

"Underground," Toby said quietly, looking down. "I think I get it now. The book is real. You're the girl. You have certain powers. You wished we could be in a fairy tale world. The king is going to do that. We're going Underground."

"That's ridiculous; the story isn't real. The Underground isn't real-"

She felt an odd tugging behind her navel, felt the burning stare of those strange eyes on her as she lurched forward dizzily. Suddenly she was on her hands and knees, dry heaving as Toby properly vomited next to her. She curled her fingers in the dirt beneath her and slowly looked up at a burning orange sky kissed only by a long, dry desert.

"What's happened?" she asked thickly.

"He brought us to a fairy tale world, and I'm pretty sure you've been here before."

Sarah looked up at the face of this man, this king. He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. He sneered.

"Welcome back."

* * *

A/N: Just gonna say some stuff here.

I wanted to create a sense of urgency in the hospital for both Sarah and the denizens of the Labyrinth. I attempted to do so by using choppy sentences and obvious film references, but I don't think it was particularly effective. The-Beta-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named (Betamort? Voldebeta? The Beta Lady? TBWSNBN?) liked it, so I kept it as is. Let me know what you think.

I also wanted to show different kinds of grief. I hated creating a little girl specifically so I could kill her, but it was a necessary evil. I changed her name three times, so in the future Betamort (I think I like that nickname best) will probably be confused _ This chapter was written two months or so ago and I was working with memories of grief from nearly five years ago. Now I have some fresh grief to work with, and it's astonishing: my recollections were rather accurate. One family member is angry (MUCH angrier than Sarah), one has shut down in a similar manner as Karen (but not as frozen, if you will), and there are so many others (GIGANTIC family) who each express their feelings in their own ways.

To business!

A kind reviewer said that there were spelling mistakes in the previous chapter. Neither spell check nor my fabulous beta nor I caught any. Writing is a major part of my job, so if there are mistakes in the future I would greatly appreciate being told specifically what they are. Please keep in mind that the "journal entries" will at times purposefully have errors depending upon the character writing them (I shudder at chapter five).

Readers of my other stories (on this site and others) know that I do a bit of fan-service now and then. I enjoy taking suggestions; while the ending of the story is fixed, we can have some fun along the way! This is also an ~adventure~, so drop some ideas in a review and you may see them pop up (with credit, of course).

There are TONS of you guys following and favoriting; y'all should leave a contribution in the little box! If a review is detailed I tend to respond (and can be tricked into giving spoilers).


	3. A Name That's Peculiar & More Dignified

Labyrinth (c) Henson &c. Standard disclaimers apply.

* * *

**Alone in the Moonlight**

_Chapter Three: A Name That's Peculiar and More Dignified_

Sarah scrambled over to Toby, putting her arm around him in a gesture of protection.

"Listen," she said testily as she looked at the Goblin King, "I don't know who you are or where we are or what you've done, but you owe us an explanation at the very least."

"_Owe_ you?" the king replied, barking out a rough laugh. "I _owe_ _you_ nothing, not after everything you've done. When you said the words, did you know what they would do? How they would affect not only me but the entirety of the Underground? Of course not. A proper heroine would never put the lives of her friends in danger." He bent at the waist and grabbed Sarah's chin, forcing her to look him in the face. "But that's what you did. You created a catastrophe, and now you're going to fix it."

Sarah jerked out of his grip and scooted backward on her bottom, tugging Toby along with her. A moment of clarity washed over her as she recalled her thoughts from moments earlier. "This is a dream," she whispered, half-smiling. "I've seen those eyes before, but only in dreams. Thank God! Hopefully Anne will wake me when she gets home. This is too bizarre for me to have thought it real..."

"A dream?" the king asked. "You think this is a dream? Fine. What is it you mortals do to wake yourselves? Ah, yes." He slapped Sarah sharply across the cheek without warning. "Pain. Still think it's a dream?"

Toby, green as he was, launched himself toward the preternatural stranger. Hauling back a tight fist, he moved to strike-

-and found himself once more in the dirt before his hand could find purchase. Dazed, he regarded the king, swung his arm again, and was on the ground before he could bat an eyelash.

Sarah moved swiftly to her brother. "Toby! Are you okay? How did he-"

"Magic," Toby answered, wiping the sheen of sweat from his forehead. "Guess my fever broke." He used Sarah's shoulders to help him stand. "What do you want with us, Goblin King?" he demanded.

"It appears that Sir Didymus's reports of your fine manners were incorrect," the king stated with a nonchalant shrug. Brushing a piece of lint from his fine dark garments, he continued. "In light of our history, Toby, I will allow you that one indiscretion. Do not attempt to harm me again; you may want to ask your sister about the consequences of irritating me." Sarah looked at him dumbly. "Don't tell me you're not going to warn him, Sarah."

"Warn him of what?" she asked, pressing a hand to her throbbing cheek. With a shiver, she focused on that pain; it wasn't supposed to hurt in dreams. "The perils of _my_ dream- pardon, the perils of my _nightmare_? Freud would have a field day with this. I guess it's not unusual to have such nightmares in times of duress. God, Anne, wake me up already!"

"Anne Baker doesn't have the _power_ to take you back to your mediocre life," the king drawled. "I can't say I understand why you'd want to go back there while all of this medical and family nonsense is happening. And will you stop talking about waking up? Shall I strike you again to drive home the point that _this is not a dream_?"

"Sarah," Toby entreated, "please. It isn't a dream. If you want to keep thinking that, then whatever. Just... for my sake, will you play along?"

She looked over her brother carefully. He had vomit on his shirt, dirt on his jeans and hands, puffy bags beneath his eyes, and the look of a child without a friend in the world. He was hurting, and even if this Toby was a dream, she still loved him. "For you, Toby, I'd do anything." She spun to face the Goblin King, hair whipping from the motion. "What do you want?"

"I want my home returned to its former glory," the king said matter-of-factly.

"And how am I supposed to help?"

"Look around you, Sarah. Can't you spot the differences? Can't you see what is present that wasn't present during your last visit? Don't you feel the absence of vibrancy? Look at the Labyrinth's outer walls- crumbling. The hedges aren't growing. The passages aren't shifting as they should. The oubliettes are darker. The forest bordering the bog is smothered in shadow. Creatures without names have arrived and made homes in my domain. These things, among others, you must rectify, and I will not send you back until you do."

"But _how _do I do it?" Sarah asked, sighing heavily.

"Cooperatively," the king replied.

"What does that mean?"

"It means working together," he answered slowly, enunciating each word as if he were speaking to a child.

"Sarah, you have to be really specific. Remember, the girl in the story had to ask a million questions just to get into the Labyrinth," Toby illuminated.

"Okay," Sarah grumbled, hating this nightmare exponentially more each second. "By what means can I provide cooperative aid that will resolve the problems you have outlined?"

"I don't know," the king said bluntly.

"You_ don't know_?! Then why did you bring us here? How am I supposed to do whatever needs to be done if nobody knows what has to be done?"

He cleared his throat. "One: correct. Two: you said the words; I couldn't have otherwise collected you. Three: I might not know, but someone else may."

"Well, who?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "I mean, who else knows the means by which I can help do all of that stuff you mentioned?"

"There is a Wise Man who wanders the Labyrinth with some degree of regularity; you met him the last time you were Underground. He is the one who told me you would be needed in the reconstruction effort, but he was unable to tell me more than that. Perhaps he can provide further insight now that you have returned."

"Wise Man?" Toby asked. "Didn't he just spout out a bunch of useless crap and then fall asleep?"

"I am rather surprised that your sister has told you so much about her journey here. Most girls would be thoroughly _ashamed_ of their actions and would keep them a secret, especially from the one they wished away," the king waxed, clearly trying to bait Sarah.

"I didn't do any wishing!" Sarah insisted. "My parents even told me that I wouldn't so much as wish upon a star for years." Those familiar icy blue eyes bored into her as if the act of inspection would unlock some secret. They retrieved nothing.

"So the girl who ate the peach and forgot everything has _actually_ forgotten everything? I don't believe it for a moment. Do right by everyone and stop feigning ignorance. We will be able to fix my homeland and send you two home much more quickly if you quit your game. That would be mutually beneficial, I think."

"But I'm not playing any game. This is hopeless," Sarah exclaimed, kicking the ground with a bare foot. "I'll never get out of this nightmare..."

"Sarah, I know you don't believe, but you have to _pretend_," Toby insisted. "Pretend the book is a true story and that you are the girl with certain powers. You told me a few days ago that as a kid you _knew_ you were a princess; be that kid again. Be 100% certain that you wished me away and that goblins are real. Be positive that you spent thirteen hours in the Labyrinth. If this is a dream, maybe the pretending will help you wake up faster."

"Ten," Sarah interjected. "The king cheated, so the girl was only in the Labyrinth for about ten hours, and away from home for four. A ten to four ratio," she thought aloud, "like I wrote in my journal. Weird." She shook her head to clear her mind. "Okay, I'll bite. I'm the girl with the powers, the one who saved the baby. If that's the case, I genuinely have no recollection of it and can only go by the story in The Labyrinth. What's the next step?"

"Finding the Wise Man, of course," the Goblin King answered.

"According to the story, he's near the exit of the oubliette and the hedge maze. Let's go," Sarah said.

"Surely you know it isn't that simple. You're taking his location for granted. That you met him at all was happenstance; he wanders as he pleases. Normally I would simply scry to find his location, but I can't seem to get a read on him."

"Then how do we find him?" Sarah asked, irritated.

"We ask questions. The years have not been kind to your mental capabilities, Sarah Williams, if you cannot reason simple deduction," he tsk'd. "It's unfortunate that you aren't wearing shoes; we'll be doing a lot of walking."

"Walking? Toby's in no condition to walk all over creation. Can't you just poof us around, like you do in the book?"

"I don't believe I've ever 'poofed' anywhere in my life, but you're quite right about young Toby. My fine fellow, I'm going to send you to the castle; you shall be treated well and my finest physicians will tend to you. I hope your stomach is empty; journeying by magic can cause nausea."

"Yeah, I remember," Toby groaned, eyeballing the puddle of vomit he'd left before. "But I'm not going anywhere without Sarah."

"Right," Sarah affirmed. "I promised I'd never leave him, and I intend to stick by that."

"Precious, you won't be leaving him," the Goblin King soothed. "_He'll_ be leaving _us_." With a wave of his hand, the Goblin King left Sarah grasping at the empty air where her brother had just been.

"Why did you- You know what, never mind. This dream may be vivid, but it's still a dream. I can't seem to wake up, but I must have some measure of control." She closed her eyes tightly and balled her fists until her fingernails drew blood from her palm. _Toby is here, Toby is here, Toby is right next to me_. "He isn't here," she stated dumbly.

"Of course he isn't," the king snapped. "You're a foolish girl; even if this was a dream, and I will reiterate that it is not, you would have no say in its content while I am present. I have been called the King of Dreams for good reason."

"Exactly one year ago tomorrow I went to the Land of Dreams and defeated the king with the mismatched blue eyes. I must never wish again," Sarah recited. She felt as if a fog was being lifted from her mind ever so slowly, just a tiny bit, and certainly not enough to satisfy her innate curiosity. "You're the man who crashes my dreams every Spring. I see your eyes in the mirror when lightning flashes."

"Remember now?"

"I remember the dreams and I remember my conversations about the dreams. Nothing more," she confessed.

The king looked genuinely curious. "What do your dreams say, Sarah? Are your dreams of me as terrible as my dreams of you?"

"There's a storm, always a heavy storm, and wind. Then I see your eyes and everything feels cold, like the rain is sleet and the wind chill has dropped. That's it. That's the extent of the Spring Dream... and Anne's Autumn Dream."

"I can't keep up with your world's seasons. I can only assume that you wished your brother here in Spring and that Anne Baker was retrieved in Autumn. I suppose I should be touched that you dream of me at all considering your convenient _selective_ amnesia. Do you see nothing but my eyes? I dream of your eyes as well, dark eyes, passionate and sinister. You dream of storms; I dream of a young woman darker than the deep. But I digress, Precious. We need to begin this hero's journey now."

"Just wait," Sarah protested. "I have some conditions. You can't call me 'precious'; that's really creepy. You also can't expect me to blindly do everything you say. If what you say is true and I'm a necessary component to your reconstruction, I ought to be treated as an equal. My third condition is that you tell me your given name. It's strange not knowing what to call you."

"Most people call me 'Your Majesty'," he replied through gritted teeth. "But as you are not most people, you may call me Jareth. I thought the dwarf told you my name- three times if my recollection is correct."

"The story never said the name of the Goblin King," Sarah protested. "I would have remembered a name like that if I had seen or heard it anywhere; if The Labyrinth used it, I would definitely know. It's an interesting name. What does it mean?"

Jareth gave her a queer look, appearing all at once to be both sneering and confused. "It's a name; it doesn't mean anything."

"All names mean something. Sarah, for example, means 'princess', and my middle name is June because that's when I was born. Of course, June was named after a goddess, so I guess I'm Princess June, Bringer of Renewal!" Sarah said.

"That certainly explains a lot," Jareth quipped in response.

"Anyway, do you accept my conditions, Jareth?"

"I always aim to please you, _princess_. I have given you my name, I will not call you 'Precious', and I will regard you with the same attitudes you regard me. Would you say that's _fair_?"

"Fair enough," she acquiesced. "So where do we begin?" Sarah asked, surveying the area. The walls of what appeared to be the outer edge of the Labyrinth were in a sorry state, and the entire place seemed to lack a vibrancy suggested by the fire-kissed sky.

"We begin at the beginning, of course," Jareth declared. He began to walk down the dusty hill, taking long strides that Sarah struggled to match. She stubbed her toes on the occasional rock, and the loose sand around her feet immediately filled and agitated the small wounds. She almost smiled when she spied a small fountain pressed near the great stone wall. Rushing forward, she sat on the fountain's edge and moved to rinse her hands and feet. Jareth grasped her wrist before she broke the still surface of the water. "Older but not wiser," Jareth sighed. "Stupid girl, didn't you think to _look_ at the liquid before dousing yourself with it?"

"I did look. It's green, see? That means it's safe," Sarah declared.

"Green means it's safe?" Jareth asked incredulously. "Look closer, Pr- _Sarah_. What makes it green? Where is the plant life?"

"I don't see any," Sarah said, curiously looking deeper into the fountain. "It's just... green water. What's the biology behind that? I've never seen naturally green water before."

Jareth yanked her to her bare feet. "It is not natural, nor is it water. Not even the gardeners and herbalists know what it is. All we know is that it is poison to most things that touch it. It kills the living and rots the dead. I believe it to be more collateral damage from your first visit. In the future, be vigilant of it. Carefully inspect any liquid you spy."

"Thanks for the warning," Sarah answered quietly, wrenching her wrist free. "Isn't this where the dwarf stays?"

"You're relying too much on an unreliable text," Jareth huffed angrily. "The Labyrinth isn't a guidebook, it's a template. No two copies are exactly alike. The story is always in some ways similar, but never the same. It's like a painting or a photograph. You can paint a location as many times as you want, but no two canvases will be identical. You encountered the dwarf at the door because that's where he was when the 'snapshot' used to create your book was made. Some people encounter him in the junkyard. Anne Baker's mother never met him at all."

"So you're basically saying I have a magic book?"

"You _would_ make that leap without processing any other information."

"It was a joke," Sarah shot.

"It wasn't a well-executed one, in that case. But look- Ah, serendipity would make me seem a liar. Your fat bellied little knee-high of a friend is coming towards us now." Jareth gave a small nod to Sarah's left. She turned to look where he indicated, hair flying in the soft breeze.

"I'll be damned," she said, eyebrows shooting up. "He looks just like one of my bookends- identical to the last detail." He had the same bulging eyes, cratered nose, squat legs; even his clothes were the right colors. "His name is Hoggle in the book. Is that really his name or is that one of those details not nailed down to the 'painting'?"

"Does his name _matter_? The only important thing about him is his knowledge of my Labyrinth and its inhabitants. Highead!" Jareth called. "Come here at once!"

"It's Hoggle an' you know it!" The dwarf spat from afar. Setting aside his spray bottle, he glanced up quickly at the king, then did a double take. "Sarah? Is that you?" Hoggle ran as fast as his old legs could carry him and embraced Sarah around the knees tightly. "Thanks be; I didn't think he could say nothin' that would bring you back. I know he sent some others up Above, but did he ever contact me? Not a once. Like he didn't think I could help convince you, like we wasn't friends."

"She isn't your friend, Hibble," Jareth crooned with a smile. "Sweet Sarah claims she can't remember a thing about her time here. She says she's presently dreaming. If anyone can convince her otherwise, it would be you. But... no. Even her brother couldn't sway her."

"Cor, you ain't nothing but a liar," Hoggle protested, hoisting himself to stand as tall as he was able. "Sarah knows where she is, and who we is, and what we done last time she was in these parts. The little lady's just puttin' on a show to irk you. Ain't that right, Sarah?"

"Hoggle," Sarah replied tightly, "we need your help."

"Ha! Told you so, Your Majesty!" Hoggle whooped.

"Oh? If she knows you, why won't she look you in the face? Why is she so tense?" Jareth mocked.

"She's tense a-'cause you stole her again, brought her back to fix a mess that ain't hers to clean up!"

"The second part of that hypothesis is debatable, and the first is downright untrue," Jareth said pleasantly. "She said the right words. Our agents Above were beginning to get desperate; they were ingratiating themselves more and more into her daily life, dropping hints and the like. We needn't have sent anyone at all. She brought herself and her brother here with no Underground influence."

"You seem right happy to have her back. You ain't gonna harm her- I won't let you, so if you think you'll be getting some jollies out of torture or payback or whatnot, you're wrong. An' Sarah's too smart to send herself back, an' on top of that she'd never send the baby anywhere near _you_."

"No, Hoggle," Sarah interrupted, "he's right. He's telling the truth about everything, I'm afraid." She knelt before the friend she couldn't remember and stared straight into his watery blue eyes. "I don't know anything about this place except what's in the book, and I've just been told that it isn't a reliable source. Toby's here somewhere; he thinks this is all real. I'm... he asked me to pretend the story happened, so I'm pretending. I wish I knew what's really going on, and that I remembered you as a flesh-and-blood _person_ and not a character, but I don't and I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry, Hoggle." She averted her eyes but remained in the kneeling position. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do," she whispered.

Hoggle fought to swallow tears. He patted Sarah on the head and managed to choke out a few words. "It ain't your fault, Sarah. An' anyways, we was fast friends last time. Even if you don't remember, I do; your fight is my fight."

"Thank you," Sarah replied. She stood, and as she brushed the sand off of her jeans, she remembered something. "Hoggle, in the book- I mean, you know the Labyrinth pretty well. Where can we find the Wise Man?"

"I don't promise nothin', but I got an idea of where to start..."

From the journal of Anne Baker:

_Sarah's gone. Not like, Oh she took Toby somewhere gone, but GONE. Her keys are here, her phone is here, hers and Toby's shoes are here. Tried calling Mrs. Williams, but she won't answer the phone, even when I call from Sarah's. She's ten kinds of fucked up right now, but you'd think she'd answer the calls of the person keeping her living child. God that sounded bitchy. I just don't know what to do. I called the cops as well. 'Circumstances being what they are' blah blah, they won't look right away even though Toby's a minor- because he's probably with Sarah. No Amber Alert. I'm making fliers if they don't do something by tomorrow morning._

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So now you see that it's a fixer-upper fic... sort of ;) Adventure & Romance, dearies...

I will throw in small references/quotes of other things I enjoy every so often. One line here is taken from the game _Neverwinter Nights 2_ and one sentence fragment is taken from a Backstreet Boys song. No judging! Anyone who can pick out the phrase or tell me the song name gets a tiny shirtless Jareth with your choice of chocolate or raspberry sauce for extra fun adult activities.

Next Time:

Jareth likes words and hair, Sarah almost eats chicken, and we break the trope of Universal English.

* * *

I'm getting lots of Follows and Favorites, but very few reviews. Can we change that last bit, please? Remember, I'm open to suggestion for additions/changes to the adventures I have outlined. Drop an idea and I may use it (with credit, of course).

Please leave a contribution in the little box!


	4. Can You Look at A King?

**Alone in the Moonlight**

_Chapter Four: Can You Look at a King? _

Sarah's feet grew colder with every step she took. Each time she looked down she was a little surprised to see that her toes were not blue. Following Hoggle was rather frustrating. His legs were so short that she had to walk significantly slower than if she had been on her own. Jareth was even more frustrated by it; Sarah had needed to rush to keep up with him, so she reckoned that the king was moving at about 30% of his regular speed. Her lips twisted into a small smile at the thought of Jareth's probable discomfort. He had brought her into this Maybe Dream and had separated her from Toby; his miseries brought her a measure of satisfaction.

They turned neither left nor right when the heavy gates to the Labyrinth opened. Instead they walked straight forward through a false wall.

"Huh," Sarah said. "Now I know why you wouldn't go either way." Hoggle simply nodded silently and kept moving.

Sarah could see that he was hurting. He really believed she had come through this Labyrinth before. She couldn't understand that. Jareth had every reason to lie to her; in the text, the king was a manipulative man bent on distraction. If he thought her responsible for destroying the Labyrinth, he would certainly not hesitate to punish her. The character of Hoggle, in contrast, was initially morally ambiguous but in the end became a faithful friend. Hoggle had no reason to lie to her. He had no reason to pretend he was sad or feign melancholy. He was the one thing that made Sarah think that the dream was only maybe a dream. She didn't believe herself capable, consciously or not, of perpetuating such despair. It was the kind of thing that only the greatest of writers could conjure.

She felt guilty for not remembering, which was absurd. How could she remember something that had never happened? She had only the memory of an "unreliable template" to guide her in this world.

Hoggle came to an abrupt stop. Sarah ran into him, arms flailing to keep her balance. Jareth took a step to the side and avoided collision.

He was rather surprised by his ability to do so; he had not been focusing on the journey at all. He had been too busy looking at Sarah's dark hair. It was different than he remembered- shorter. It brushed against her shoulders as she walked at that excruciatingly slow pace, and Jareth couldn't hold back the memory of another time her hair had enchanted him. In her drug-induced dream, she had imagined herself with curled locks bejeweled with diamonds and entwined with silver. The dress she had imagined was gauche, he thought, but her hair was divine. When he entered the dream and danced her to distraction, the first things he saw were the shining vines interspersed throughout that dark, dark hair. Then he had seen her eyes, so large and afraid. She sought him- she trusted him to keep her safe from the masked revelers. That was when he decided he _would_ keep her safe, not just in that dream, but forever. So he didn't fight when she escaped the dream, he sent a laughable and wholly inept group of mindless and untrained goblins to meet her in the city, and he let her leave with the child. He had known that there would be repercussions of some sort, a sordid result of his responses to her. Responses to her. Her. Her fault.

"Why have you stopped, Hogwart?" Jareth demanded. Sarah tried to hide a giggle behind her hand. The king shot her a severe look, arching one fine eyebrow.

"It's just," Sarah laughed, "you called him Hogwart. Like Hogwarts. You know, Harry Potter's school. No? You should really expand your library..."

Hoggle looked at Sarah strangely, then shook his head. She didn't remember calling him that very same thing years ago. "This passage ain't supposed to stop yet."

"What?" Sarah asked.

"I told you things were shifting, Sarah," Jareth drawled dryly. "I didn't know this particular area had been infected yet."

"Infected? You think it's some kind of blight?" She remembered the green liquid in the fountain and shuddered. If there was a blight, its spores could attach themselves to her in a dozen different places. She could breathe it in and be poisoned by the air itself.

"I don't think so," Hoggle said. "Critters would-"

"She wasn't addressing you, scab," Jareth snapped. A single instant later he was facing Sarah, looking placid. "It's unlikely that there's a blight in the communicable sense. The problems are cropping up randomly, and if affected areas are adjacent they often have completely different symptoms."

"Oh. Well, I guess it's a relief to have one option crossed off the list."

"Or more disturbing. If we could pinpoint the cause, we could treat it."

"I suppose that's a valid argument... Do you always see the glass as half-empty?"

"I see that the glass is twice as large as it needs to be, darling girl. Let us put philosophy aside and focus on the problem at hand. Haggle, where were we supposed to exit?"

"It's Hoggle," the dwarf mumbled. "This path'll take ya to a set o' stairs leading down to a corridor o' False Alarms. The place where you set the Cleaners on me an' Sarah."

"Ah, yes. I recall our encounter there with a bitter fondness." He held Sarah's gaze, looking for any flashes of recognition that would betray her ignorance as a farce. There were none. "You said that my Labyrinth was a piece of cake. Do you feel that way now... in retrospect?"

"I couldn't say," Sarah said tightly. "That would be a question for someone who remembered being here." Whether this was a dream or stone-cold reality made no difference; Jareth was a jerk. "Anyway, Hoggle, you said this path _should_ lead there. Any idea where it goes now?"

"Not a one." The dwarf put his hand on the gray masonry before him. It was unfortunately solid. "Ain't a trick wall, little lady. So, left or right?"

Chewing her lip, Sarah looked right. Brambles, branches, and bits of brick littered the ground. She looked left. The path was free of debris, but there were dilapidated spots in the walls. The clutter on the right meant that no one had been that way for some time. The lack of detritus on the left was unnerving. The walls were practically crumbling, yet there wasn't a single pebble to be seen. What kept that area clean? More importantly, what was hidden in those structural recesses?

"My gut says we should turn right," Sarah said slowly, "but we should probably put it to a vote. You two know this place better than I do."

Jareth snorted. "Has my monarchy been downgraded to a democracy?" He laughed bitterly. "Putting my Labyrinth in a shambles wasn't enough; now you want to change the infrastructure."

"I only thought-"

"Never mind. The lady says right, so we shall go right." With a grandiose and mocking gesture, Jareth ushered his companions onward. He would bring up the rear and try not to think of Sarah as anything other than a maelstrom. It was her fault, he reminded himself.

From the Scribblings of Toby Williams:

_I count myself lucky to have been sent to a castle, but I want to be with my sister. This is my first time using a quill pen. I think I'm okay at it. I wanted to write so that I can remember once we get home. Sarah doesn't remember being here, and I'm pretty sure she was, so who's to say I won't forget too? I thought there would be goblins everywhere, since this is the Castle Beyond the Goblin City, but I've only seen a few. When the king sent me away, I landed on a bed, which is weird. The doctors call themselves 'clerics'. They look more like the king than goblins, but mostly they look like normal people. They're real pale, and skinny. The kind of skinny where you can almost see their bones. It's kind of gross. They don't speak much English. "Clerics help you not sick" is what they said, then "eat" (but it was a magic potion in a fancy goblet, so they must not know "drink"). My stomach feels some better and my head doesn't ache so much, but I have that weird feeling in my chest that you get when you're worried. I'm terrified. I just lost one sister. Sarah said she wouldn't leave me. I know it isn't her fault that I was sent to the castle, but I'm afraid for her. What if I lose her too?_

The hours of walking were slow going, and not just because of Hoggle's stature. Every so often Jareth would pull a crystal out of thin air in an attempt to locate the Wise Man, and each time he made a sound of rage and hurled the crystal at a wall.

"Smashing those orbs isn't going to help anything," Sarah sighed eventually.

"It isn't going to hurt anything, either," the king said with a sneer.

"It might hurt my feet! No shoes, remember? I don't want to step on broken glass. Any cuts would get infected from walking in all this dirt and the blight or whatever could be transferred that way, so yeah, throwing glass around might hurt." She pushed the palms of her hands into her eyes. Dusk was falling. She had no way of knowing how long she had been in the Maybe Dream and therefore couldn't calculate the amount of time she and Toby had been gone in the real world. Her body told her that it was long past time to eat and that sleep should come soon. The gnawing in her stomach made her think of her favorite foods, Grandma Williams's double-fried chicken and a pea-picking cake for dessert. She imagined that sleeping in the Labyrinth would be similar to how Grandma Williams slept in her childhood: cold and hard. The woman had only left the Hollers when Robert vehemently insisted; most of the time Sarah had to traverse the mountains to see her grandmother. The Hollers were a real life fairy land for Sarah. She would sit on the rickety old porch in a rocking chair, drinking tea and pretending that the lightning bugs were magical will 'o' wisps that would lead her to

"I said _stop_, you daft woman! Are you deaf, blind, or both?" Jareth snapped. "Fool girl, you nearly stepped in something green. Two inches further and you could have been infected and of no further use to me."

Sarah looked down. Barely an inch from her shivering toes was some sort of slime undulating with a measure of uniformity. She wrinkled her nose at the smell, which was eerily similar to frogs being dissected in Biology by teenagers the world over. Crouching down to get a better look, she began to _hear_ the slime hissing and popping like a frying egg. She wanted to touch it, to know its consistency, but didn't dare. It was unknown, unnatural, and although it was a much deeper shade than the liquid, it was most certainly green. To her shock, a hand came down and brushed the substance.

"What are you doing?! You might get sick!" Sarah exclaimed.

Jareth stood, examining the slime by rolling it about his fingertips. He allowed himself a second to glare at Sarah before returning his attention to his fingers. "Gloves, dearest," he said disinterestedly. "I'll just create a new pair when I'm done assessing this. It's nice to know that you're concerned about my welfare, Precious."

"Concerned about... Well, of course I'm concerned! Among other reasons, you're my only ticket to Toby. And how can you tell anything through those gloves, anyway? They look awfully thick-" Something caught in her mind. "You can just _create_ new gloves for yourself? How? If you can do things like that, why haven't you made me any shoes?"

"Yes, magic, and because you didn't ask." He kept his focus on the slime, stretching it and forming it into this shape or that. He furrowed his brow. "I didn't expect this kind of viscosity. Curious." Jareth shook his hands for a moment. Sarah watched with fascinated incredulity as his black gloves changed into brown ones.

"Well?" She asked haughtily.

"Well what?"

"Can you make me some shoes?"

"Yes."

Jareth kept walking, jumping a bit to avoid stepping in the slime. "Watch your step," he cautioned. Sarah's jaw dropped and her eyes widened. He wasn't going to make her any shoes!

"Look, my feet are really cold," she said.

"Tragic."

"No, seriously."

"I believe you." He began to walk faster.

"But you won't magic up some shoes for me?"

"Was I supposed to?"

"You said you would!"

"Is that what I said?" Jareth asked, and Sarah was certain she heard a smile in his voice.

"Oh," she said, jogging to keep up with his long strides. "Semantics. I asked if you _could_. Will you please make shoes for me? Ones that fit me comfortably and are appropriate for this excursion?"

"As you say," Jareth replied. Sarah felt the warmth of the shoes before she had time to look at them.

"Thanks," she said sincerely, giving Jareth a small smile. He didn't notice. "We need to slow down; Hoggle must be having trouble with our pace." She tugged Jareth's arm to stop him and looked back towards Hoggle. No one was behind them. "We must have been going too quickly for too long. We should wait. How far behind us do you think he is?"

Jareth frowned. Hogwash was slow, yes, but he also made his presence known with a constant string of half-mumbled complaints. His noise had been absent for... well, Jareth couldn't put his finger on it. He was certain that the dwarf hadn't been underfoot when he noticed the slime. The king couldn't recall the scab's company since they had turned into this passageway, and that had been a very long time ago indeed. The dwarf was lost to them, it seemed. It was no great loss for Jareth; Hogwart's usefulness had run out when he stopped recognizing corridors. Telling her that her friend was missing would be counterproductive. Sarah would want to look for the knobby little man, and really there was no time for it. How could he convince her to keep going? He considered making her forget; a sprinkle of magic on some goblin fruit would do it. In the end, Jareth didn't have to resort to trickery. A quiet hum caught his attention and he turned to find Sarah drowsily leaning against a stone wall. After a cursory glance of the area, Jareth deemed it safe enough to rest and ushered Sarah to the ground. He removed his midnight cloak and battered it into a lump soft enough to use as a pillow. Sarah mumbled her thanks as her heavy eyelids slowly shut.

She woke with a start.

"Toby!"

"He's safe in the castle," Jareth said calmly from his place on the ground. His hair was mussed unflatteringly and tangled in places. His clothes, so majestic only a day ago, were smudged with dirt. Sarah pulled a face as she looked at him. "What?" Jareth asked, following her gaze. "You don't look pristine either, Precious."

"You're not supposed to call me that," Sarah reminded him.

"My _sincerest_ apologies," Jareth replied with surprisingly little venom. "The sun has already risen. We must continue our search for the Wise Man immediately." He leapt to his feet, brushed what dirt he could from his black trousers, and started walking. Swiftly and in stride, he retrieved his crumpled cloak from the ground and shook it.

"Wait a minute! I haven't eaten in quite some time, and I won't be able to do much unless I have some metabolic fuel. Also, we both risk dehydration if we don't get water in us soon. Didn't you plan for this?"

"Of course I did," Jareth scoffed. He conjured and tossed a crystal to her in one fluid motion, never breaking his step. As she caught it, the orb changed into something she had never seen before. Large, red, and lumpy, this... food... looked wholly unappetizing. If the innocuous peach from the story could cause damage, who knew what this unusual thing would do?

"Will it poison me?" Sarah asked frankly.

"Don't be stupid," Jareth scoffed. "I need your help, remember? That aside, I am above such things. A gentleman would not harm a lady."

"You're above poisoning someone? In the book you gave the girl- um, you gave me a poisoned peach the last time I was here!"

"That was part of the story, and that was before..."

"Before what?" Sarah asked.

"Never mind," Jareth sighed, again recalling how wide and sparkling her eyes had been during the masque. _Her fault_. "It's safe to eat and will hydrate you as well. I give my word." He sounded defeated, like a child punished for something accidental.

"Okay," she answered quietly.

She bit into a piece of heaven. It was chicken! Chicken-flavored fruit! And it didn't taste like any old chicken, but Grandma Williams's chicken- the food she had been craving the night before. She took a second bite, then a third, and the flavor changed. Her mouth was full of the sweet taste of an ice cold Arnold Palmer. Then came the blackberry cobbler with home-churned vanilla ice cream. Sarah sucked the pit dry before spitting it behind her. She licked the remaining taste from her fingers loudly. "Mmm, it's like Willy Wonka's gum! I won't turn into food now, will I?" she laughed.

"Don't be absurd," Jareth said. "What is a 'Willy Wonka'?" he asked.

"Oh, he's a fictional candy maker," Sarah explained pleasantly. "He invented chewing gum that tasted like a meal, but it wasn't completed yet and so the girl who chewed it turned into a blueberry. How did that fruit know my favorite foods? I was literally thinking about that chicken last night."

"You eat chickens?" Jareth asked, surprised. "How disgusting; they're filthy creatures." He suppressed a shudder. "Most food in the Underground is magical. Some can make you sleep, as you already know, but there are many different things that vegetation can do. That particular fruit- we call it the Delicious Desire- senses your wants and needs, then adjusts itself accordingly."

"That's absolutely amazing," Sarah breathed. She attempted to keep up with Jareth's long strides and swift gait but found herself tired after less than fifteen minutes of walking. "Stop!" she called. "I can't walk that quickly. If I can't do it, Hoggle certainly can't." She looked back, brow furrowed. "Where is Hoggle?"

"He wasn't with us when we woke," Jareth said matter-of-factly. Of course he wasn't so lucky as to have her forget that useless twit. He had come up with a few answers to this question as he drifted into sleep. "Maybe he started the day without us. Dwarves tend to be early risers." The half-truths slipped from his mouth easily. "Maybe" didn't imply certainty, so technically he wasn't lying. One couldn't very well lie to their mistress.

"That doesn't sound like him," Sarah reasoned. "His character only takes any initiative when straits are dire. Our makeshift campsite didn't look at all disturbed, so I don't think he had any incentive to leave."

"The fact remains that he has not been with us for at least an hour," Jareth replied. "It won't do any good to halt our search for the Wise Man in order to start another search for someone who didn't even have the courtesy to bid us a safe journey."

"I suppose you're right," Sarah conceded, chewing her bottom lip. "I don't like it, but I agree with you; we need to keep moving. By the way, will you walk more slowly? I really can't keep up. My activities are academic, not anaerobic."

Jareth didn't respond, but Sarah noticed that his steps became shorter. Their path continued to be strictly linear. Unless there was an unnoticed slight curve that was leading them in a spiral, they had been traveling in a straight line since their first turn. The passage just went on and on, no turns or corners or anything. Recalling the eerily similar circumstance in the book, Sarah made a point of looking for any slight anomalies in the walls. After tripping over the relatively abundant downed branches and rubbish several times, she took to watching her feet and skirting her fingers along the masonry.

The silence was unbearable. Sarah grumbled internally that she had never had a more tedious dream. Not only could she feel the slow, sluggish pull of time, but the fairy tale king wasn't saying a word. Fairy Tale Kings were supposed to meet certain qualifications- they were an archetype, one with which Sarah was familiar due to her years of study in English literature. Jareth was no hero or knight in shining armor, but neither was he a ruthless villain. He certainly leaned towards the latter; kidnapping and bickering didn't exactly scream "good guy". She began to go over story structure in her mind. In this story- this dream- the villain was circumstance... or perhaps Jareth _was_ the villain and circumstance was simply a catalyst. There were no bricks beneath her fingers.

"Hey, I think there's a turn here, or at least an alcove," Sarah said. "Should we check it out?"

"Mm," Jareth hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. He twisted his wrist and formed one of his magical orbs. As he stared into it, a Cheshire grin grew on his face. "I've got him, that clever bastard. Look." Sarah squinted and gazed into the crystal. All she saw was a swirling mess of gray. Puzzled, she turned her eyes to Jareth. "Clouds like that block a scant few places in my domain. They are areas that resist scrying- and I am the one who put that magical fog there. It ensures a measure of privacy, you see. I have been attempting to scry the Wise Man himself, as well as his frequent haunts. It was only by chance that I came across him. I was looking at your brother- before you ask, he seems to be quite well- and saw the servants in a tizzy. They were handling the Hat, and the Wise Man is never far from his Hat."

"So he's in the castle?"

"He is holed up in one of five locations within my castle, yes."

"You called him clever; do you think he knew where to go to hide?"

"I can't be sure. His actions belie his true intellect. It's no secret that I've been looking for him, and he had to know I'd be searching via magic. Two questions stand out in my mind, and they're rather troubling..."

"How did he know where to conceal himself?" Sarah asked.

"That will be one of my queries to him," Jareth said. "The other mystery, with a possibly sinister answer, is where he has been all this time. He can't have been at the castle long; someone would have sent word. Where could he go unnoticed by creatures _and_ magic?"

"But what if he _was_ noticed? Someone could have harbored him."

"No one in my kingdom would do that. We all want the land to be healed. That aside, only those who wish to die would cross me. No one is stupid enough to test my wrath; I'm far too powerful to challenge. You cut me with your words, girl."

Sarah bit the inside of her cheek and flushed. "You sure do run hot and cold," she snorted. "I wasn't trying to be insulting. Sometimes it's helpful to have someone play Devil's Advocate. You don't have to take it personally."

"That's a poor apology."

"I wasn't apologizing."

The two stood facing one another, each sizing up the other. He was taller and visibly fit; she would lose any fight against him, magic or no. And those eyes... those eyes that brought memories of frozen raindrops... those eyes that haunted his dreams, that danced with fire. He would lose any challenge against her, just as he had before_. Her fault_.

He grabbed her hand roughly and spun without warning. She found herself on her knees, staring dizzily at a pile of her own vomit as chicken feathers flew every which way. She heard the heels of Jareth's boots clacking as he walked from the throne room.

"You could have warned me! You know that makes me sick!" Sarah shouted at him.

Jareth laughed heartily and took the stairs from the Great Hall two at a time.

* * *

Thanks, of course, to Betamort (that's her name and I'm sticking to it!), and additionally to **SifthePiper **who left a very helpful review.

A note and apology: as of now, the rating of the story will be M. I knew from the beginning that it would get there eventually but thought I'd wait to up it. I feel bad that I listed it as T at all because I know some folks won't read M. It was disingenuous of me, and I'm sorry. I hope you'll stick with me, but I understand if you don't.

Something I thought was funny- I was going over Campbell's Hero's Journey (real-life novel needs restructuring) and realized that in this story, *Toby* is the guide. It's supposed to be like... Gandalf or Dumbledore, not a twelve-year-old! Well, it is what it is.

Next Time:

Sarah is confused and pissed off, Jareth is an angry snob, and the Wise Man has an idea.

Lots of hits, Follows, and Faves, but few Reviews.

Please leave a contribution in the little box!


	5. An Extensive Reputation

Labyrinth (c) Henson &c

Okay, y'all- I've got tons of follows and favorites, but not many reviews! Let's change that. I'll give you chocolate.

**Alone in the Moonlight**

_Chapter Five: An Extensive Reputation_

Toby snapped out of sleep at the sound of his sister's voice. "Sis!" he exclaimed, bounding off of his hospital cot. He ran into her with such force that both of them were left breathless. "I'm so glad you're safe!"

"Back at you," she replied, hugging him tighter. She cradled him to her chest and stroked his back. "How do you feel?"

"Better. Not great, but better," he said. "Ain't puked in a while, so that's good. Oh, right, _haven't_. Sorry, Madame English Teacher."

"I really couldn't care less about your verbiage right now," Sarah laughed. "Besides, most people here don't seem to speak English anyway, so there's no one to offend. It took a good ten minutes for what I assume was a goblin to understand that I wanted to come to the hospital. First it took me to the kitchen, then a swimming pool. Eventually I kept repeating your name and miming being sick and he got the message. At least I think it was a 'he'."

"These clerics don't speak much English either, but at least you can tell their gender," Toby said. "They're not humans. Look at their ears- they're pointy." He was right; these were not humans. Sarah glanced at their pointed ears and noticed a few other differences. Their fingers were unusually long, they were so skinny that they looked malnourished, their gait was strangely light, and all of their faces had an ethereal quality- a certain luminescence and fragility.

Sarah ushered Toby to his cot and had him recline. "You may not have vomited in a while, but you still feel feverish. Rest."

"How did you get to the castle? Did you solve the Labyrinth again, Sarah?"

A hush fell over the room and a half dozen pairs of eyes turned their gaze to the siblings. The clerics looked almost frightened, their light eyes wide. Sarah furrowed her brow and looked at each person with scrutiny. "What?" she asked at last. "What's wrong?"

A single lanky-haired cleric stepped towards her slowly, head cocked in curiosity. "Sarah?" she asked slowly. "_Girl_ Sarah?"

"Yes," Sarah answered, confused. "Yes, I'm a girl."

"No," the cleric replied, "_Labyrinth_ girl Sarah?"

"I don't understand," Sarah said. "The king brought me here from the Labyrinth just now. Is that what you mean?"

The cleric screwed up her face in frustration and put her hands on her thin hips. "No," she repeated firmly. "You girl Sarah of... what say? Labyrinth! Labyrinth girl Sarah?" She huffed and threw up her hands when Sarah only shrugged and shook her head.

"Oh!" Toby exclaimed. "She wants to know if you're the girl who beat the Labyrinth. Yes, Cleric. This Sarah is the girl."

A cacophony of whispers and mutters in an unfamiliar language echoed off of the stone walls. The cleric who had spoken bowed her head and made a strange gesture with her hands. The others followed suit. They resumed their work but stole glances as often as they were able.

"Lord, Toby, you shouldn't have said that," Sarah chastised.

"It's true! Well, as far as they're concerned anyway. You still think it's a dream?"

"Yes. I don't know. Maybe? I've never experienced some things in dreams until now. Taste, for example. I had the most delicious fruit this morning, tasted just like Grandma's chicken. How do you imagine a taste?"

"There's your proof! You can't imagine taste."

"I'm sure there's a scientific explanation. With Dad's... condition, it's normal that I'd be dreaming of his side of the family. I haven't figured out all of the symbolism yet-"

"I thought dream interpretation was useless or whatever. You even call Freud 'Sigmund Fraud'."

"Hush, you," Sarah said with a smile. "Whether this is a dream or reality, I don't think there's any escape until I fix what's broken, and I have no idea what's going on with anything. The king isn't being forthcoming. He says he doesn't know much, but he has to know more than he's letting on. I'm reluctant to ask questions. He's quite changeable."

"I noticed. He acted all polite, but he was mean at the same time. Like how he hit you but called you 'precious'. He hasn't hurt you again, has he?" Toby asked, voice quaking.

"No, kiddo. Don't you worry about me. You focus on getting better." She ruffled his hair and kissed him on the forehead. "They treating you al-"

"Oi! You!" a shrill voice called. "You, young lady!"

"Not this guy again..." Toby grumbled. "He speaks _perfect_ English and makes sure to speak it as loudly as possible."

Sarah looked for the source of the voice and found it in the frail arms of a fair-skinned cleric. The Hat.

"You!" Sarah gasped.

"You!" the Hat mimicked. "Finally decided to come back, eh? Ow!" The cleric not-so-gently placed the Hat on the cot next to Toby's. "Well you didn't have to _drop_ me. So hard to find good help these days..."

"The king has been looking for your... um, wearer. Did he find him?"

"How should I know? I'm only a hat, and I've been with these healers who have been tossing me about so hard that it makes my brain rattle! No idea where that old man is, or the king for that matter. Last time I saw them was when they decided to get you back here. I tried to tell them that it would be _easy_ because you're not very bright, but did they listen to me? Of course not. What would a hat know about anything? I spent just as much time with you as the Wise Man did- more, even! He fell asleep! But the king didn't pay me a bit of attention."

"Um, I'm sorry to interrupt, but will you tell me what made them decide that I'm the solution to the Labyrinth's problems?"

"Again, how should I know? The old coot only mumbles and the king just shouts everything. It was a right jumble of non-sequiters. Yell yell, mmrmph mrrph huff huff, screech- twenty minutes of it! I tried to help, but the king magicked my beak shut. Rude!"

"Please," Toby interjected, "Mister... Hat. If you could tell us anything they said about my sister, we'd really appreciate it."

The Hat eyed him suspiciously. "You're like all the others. You want, want, want, but do you ever give anything in return?"

"I did," Sarah said. "I gave you a ring."

"You did indeed," the Hat confirmed. "But that was payment for the trash that Wise Man spewed. I'll need something new from one of you." Sarah and Toby locked eyes. They simultaneously realized that they had nothing to offer but the clothes on their backs. "Looks like you're out of luck." He closed his beady eyes, preparing to sleep. "Unless, of course, you are willing to part with a strand of hair, young woman."

"A strand of hair?" Sarah asked, running her fingers through her dark locks. "What kind of value does that have?"

"The kind that buys information," the Hat said sleepily. "Just one strand, pulled out at the root, and I'll tell you what those idiots said."

"I don't think you should do it, Sarah," Toby said nervously.

"Why not? It's only a piece of hair. What can he do with _that_?" Sarah replied.

"Exactly," Toby answered darkly. "It has to be important here, else why would he want it?"

But she had already plucked a strand of hair, for better or worse.

"Now!" the Hat cheerfully started, opening his eyes wide. "Just put it... anywhere? On my hat, I suppose. The Hat's hat. Good. Yes, where was I? Oh. So not too long ago the king came to see the Wise Man. He was all moody, which isn't really out of character for him, but he seemed especially moody. Not as much sparkling going on. So he says, he wants to know what's wrong with the Labyrinth; everything is green or some nonsense like that. Wise Man tells him he doesn't know yet, but he can't fix it. Then the king asked how he could know that he didn't know 'yet' and got a bit stroppy. There was a bunch of wordplay, I really hate that about this place, and finally the Wise Man said that something broken can only be fixed by the breaker. That's you."

"But I didn't break anything!" Sarah protested.

"It all went to shit right after you left. You're the breaker."

"Correlation is not causation," she argued.

"Again with all of the words. You people can be so uppity, you know that? Since you broke it, you have to fix it. End of story." The Hat huffed and closed his eyes again. "You are just _exhausting_. Puts me right to sleep..." The hospital ward was filled with the sound of the Hat's fake snoring. The Clerics looked askance at him; they clearly wanted him gone but didn't want to risk him talking again. One brave soul tiptoed to the Hat's cot and poured a potion of some kind into its "sleeping" mouth. The Hat choked but soon fell into a tangible sleep.

From the Desk of Jareth the Goblin King:

_Dwarf: unmitigated failure; eventual search, punishment acc. _

_ Beast: acceptable_

_ Didymus: Accolades warranted_

_ Doors: punishment acc._

_ Wise Man & assoc.: require further investigation, probable ex._

_ Child still necessary. Role of A. Baker & possible usage?_

_ Must attempt to enter Champion's dreams; success not expected_

_ Investigate falling up_

Sarah hated manners at that moment. She wanted to sit with her little brother and cradle him, maybe talk to him if he wasn't sleeping. Instead she was sitting on a veranda in an ill-fitting dress (hastily given to her by a nervous young servant girl that morning) having a light meal with the Goblin King and two people whose races she couldn't identify. One resembled the clerics: slender and pale with flowing blonde hair twisted into an intricate updo. Her dress was light purple, almost Grecian in style, and her thin lips didn't smile. The other guest was a stumpy man with bluish skin and thick curled fingernails that resembled dull claws. He was speaking animatedly, talons catching his already threadbare jacket. None of them were speaking English, which made Sarah wonder why Jareth had asked her to join him. Etiquette deemed her obligated. So she sat, ignored, with her back straight, her chin up, ate all but one bite of each unusual course, and generally hoped that her behavior was proper in the Underground; she had no hostess to mimic.

The trio began to laugh boisterously, gawking at her with no subtlety. Sarah remained stoic. She heard her name uttered among the foreign words and blushed furiously. Beneath the table she twisted her napkin tightly. She had been warming up to the idea that this was reality, but in her mind she pleaded with herself. _Time to wake up. It's a dream. The past week or so has all been a bad dream. These people are too weird to be real._

"But sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction," she murmured under her breath.

"Sarah, are you quite well?" Jareth asked, switching to English easily and acting as though he hadn't been mocking her moments earlier. "You look a bit flushed; perhaps you ought to have a lie-down."

"I think that may be best," Sarah said formally. Jareth rang a small bell and a servant came to escort Sarah inside. "Thank you for your generosity, Your Highness." She curtsied (right foot behind the left?) and allowed herself to be led by a human-looking young man. As soon as she was out of Jareth's hearing range, Sarah stomped her feet and made a few loud noises of frustration.

"Miss?" the servant asked.

"You speak English?" Sarah replied, eyebrows raising in shock.

"Sure do. Name's Brad. I'm from Austin, Texas. I was taken away; my cousin didn't make it to the center in time. Only one person ever has, so I've heard, and apparently she messed things up pretty bad."

"Oh," Sarah hesitated. Deliberately omitting her name, she continued. "Well, I'm from Atlanta. What happened to this place when the person made it to the center? I've just heard rumors about plants and stuff."

"Way I hear it, she tore down the whole city then wrecked the castle. How one kid can do that is beyond me. Of course, I'm only getting stuff from people who speak our language, and there ain't many here."

"I've noticed," Sarah said. "Those snobs out there, they were speaking whatever they speak, but I heard them say my name then point and laugh. It was humiliating. I'm so glad the king gave me an out by ringing for you."

"Yeah, about that," Brad said hesitantly, "don't take this the wrong way, but what's so important about you that you're eating with the king?"

"Important? Nothing. I think he just wanted to make me as uncomfortable as possible. He hates me. He _really _hates me."

"He hates everyone. One of the most ornery men I've ever seen."

"I hold a special place in his black little heart," Sarah sneered. "Anyway, would you mind taking me to the infirmary?"

"No problem, just follow me," Brad said, leading the way briskly. "I know a few medical words; I can tell them what's wrong and they can give you the right concoction."

"Thank you, but that's not necessary. My brother is ill, not me."

They walked in a tense silence down a flight of stairs and through some long and indistinguishable halls.

"Welp, here we are," Brad announced. "I hope your brother feels better. Sorry, I don't think I caught your name."

"Oh, I'm S- June," she corrected herself, deciding to use her middle name. "It was a pleasure meeting you, fellow English-speaker."

"And how!"

From the Journal of Brad Smith:

_Something's rotten in the Alamo. Theres some siblings here who just got here yesterday or the day before and The King seems real intrested in them. June, the woman, was having lunch with The king and was real shifty about why. She doesn't act confused about being around him. She was nice though. And she was pretty. I dont know anything about her brother accept that he's sick. It's nice to be able to talk to somebody in english again. She said that the girl who beat the maze did something to the plants, and I didn't know that but she didn't know about all the buildings. Which is wierd since the castle is still being fixed._

Toby was waking from a nap. He felt a warm hand wrapped around his and fidgeted. He was almost thirteen! Nobody needed to hold his hand! "Mom, what are you doing?" he groused, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

"It's me, kiddo," Sarah said quietly. "Sorry." She let her grip on his hand slack, but he immediately squeezed her fingers.

"No," Toby sighed, "I just... forgot where we were and... what all happened." Seeing that he was awake, one of the clerics came to Toby's bedside. Looking at her feet as she approached, she made a strange gesture directed at Sarah. She then said a few words in her own language, and Toby answered in her native tongue. Sarah looked at her brother, puzzled. "I picked up a couple phrases. She asked if I needed anything and I just told her water. I can teach you what I know."

Remembering how the strange visitors had treated her, and even how the clerics seemed to be in awe of her, Sarah decided it was best to learn as much as she could. She wanted to make the playing field as level as possible. "Yes, I'd like that. Thanks."

Toby taught her little. He had been in a hospital for a grand total of one day; there was only so much for him to overhear. By dusk Sarah knew how to say some basic pleasantries, yes and no, 'food', 'water', 'sleep', 'girl', 'sister', 'brother', and 'medicine'. Still, it was a start.

When a cleric came to give Toby his evening meal, the poor woman jumped backwards when Sarah greeted her in her Underground language. The cleric repeated the greeting, made the strange gesture Sarah was now used to, and sat a silver platter at Toby's bedside. As she turned to go, Sarah called out. The cleric stopped, looking curiously at Sarah.

"_Please_ sit," Sarah said, patting a spot on the cot next to Toby's. The cleric seemed to understand and sat with an unearthly grace. Sarah pointed to herself. "Sarah." She pointed to her brother. "Toby." She pointed to the cleric. "What's your name?"

"_No_," the woman replied. Sarah tried her point-and-say method again. "_No_," the cleric repeated. Sarah huffed and waved her hand angrily. The cleric made the gesture and crossed the room.

"Maybe they don't have names," Toby suggested, picking up a spoon and slurping a frothy orange soup.

"Or maybe Mr. High and Mighty instructed them to irritate me as well. Don't slurp."

"Oh, sorry," Toby said with a sheepish grin. "What do you mean 'as well'? Who irritated you?"

"It doesn't really matter," Sarah sighed. "He's got us trapped here until I do whatever it is I'm supposed to do. I have to grin and bear his petty attitude. You're being treated well, I trust? I'll have to break a few bones if you're not."

"Yeah. It's great, far as hospitals go. The food's amazing."

"I had a luncheon with the king and it was divine. The food was divine, I mean. The company was atrocious."

"How do you mean?" Toby asked between spoonfuls.

"As I said, it doesn't much matter. They acted like teenage girls, I'll say that much."

"Like, oh my god!" Toby squealed in an affected accent. "Were they totally wearing red after Labor Day? Seriously? Was Kimberly, like, cheating on Mike with Zeke?"

Sarah busted out laughing. "It's _white_ after Labor Day, you goof! I never realized my brother was such a Valley Girl. You always know how to cheer me up, kiddo. If I ever see those wretched people again, in my mind I'll call them Kimberly and Zeke."

There was a sudden silence behind their snickering. Toby and Sarah saw the clerics bow with astonishing uniformity as their king entered. The air began to feel thick and heavy. Jareth's cold eyes surveyed the room slowly, lingering on each person before moving to the next. Toby's mouth was frozen open with a spoon full of soup just outside it. His hand started to tremble from the waiting; as soon as the king looked away, he slurped.

Sarah half-expected the king to snap- to scream, throw a fit, do _something_ juvenile- but instead, Jareth threw back his head and laughed. The clerics took this as their cue to resume their duties. "And how is my favorite patient feeling?" he asked.

"I'm feeling much better, thank you," Toby replied stoically, inching closer to his sister. He couldn't erase the memory of this man striking her and then separating them.

"I'm glad to hear it," Jareth said, smiling. "I need the pair of you to follow me. Ah, but just to be safe, I should ask the opinion of your caretakers." He took aside the nearest cleric and spoke to him softly, nodding occasionally. The cleric bowed, made the strange gesture at Sarah, and crossed the room. Jareth looked at the siblings curiously. "Do they all do that?"

"Yes," Sarah answered. "What does it mean?"

"_When_ do they do it?"

"Constantly. Is it particularly significant?"

"They only do it when Sarah's here," Toby said.

"Of course they do," Jareth spat. "Of course they do." He took Sarah's hand and pulled her off of the cot. Standing her in front of him and squeezing her shoulders uncomfortably, he cleared his throat and boomed menacingly in the language of the clerics. Sarah used that tone when she was exceptionally pissed off at a class. She gathered that she would not see the gesture again.

Jareth strode out of the hospital wing briskly. The siblings had to rush to keep pace. Both Sarah and Toby felt lightheaded, Sarah from hunger and Toby from his still-lingering virus. Turn after dizzying turn led the trio at last to the throne room. Sarah took the momentary pause to take in the sight. She had seen the room once before- or twice if the events of the book were factual- when Jareth had unkindly left her there alone that morning, and she had been primarily looking at the floor. Simply put, it was filthy. The smell of chicken dung, white liquor, and god knew what else put her off the idea of food.

One object held a strange beauty: the throne itself. Unable to help herself, Sarah walked to the dais upon which it sat and ran her fingers over the curved back. Was that ivory? It was smooth, not a fissure to be seen. Perhaps it was bone? If so, it was a perfect specimen from a giant animal. She looked at the seat itself, trying to determine the type of stone. She was no geologist, but even she could tell that the stone was ages old judging by the amount of wear. The fabrics draped from the pristine back must once have been luxurious. The tattered remains were a faded and threadbare crimson paisley. "How lovely it must have been," she murmured to herself.

"Are you quite finished?" Jareth asked impatiently. "We have work to do."

"Right. I'm sorry," Sarah said. "I was admiring the craftsmanship-"

"What do you know about the concept of _gravity_?"

"Positive or negative nine point eight meters per seconds squared relative to what is considered up," Sarah recited immediately. Toby and Jareth looked agog. "What? I took a lot of physics courses in college. Anyway, what does gravity have to do with fixing the Labyrinth?"

"I thought that we needed to begin at the beginning, but the Wise Man had an unusual moment of sanity. Why, Precious, would we re-trace the steps that destroyed my Labyrinth? It makes no sense. We need to do everything in _reverse_. Reverse the steps, reverse the damage."

"It sounds good in theory, but how do we apply that practically? At the end, the girl jumps down to have the final confrontation. How do I fall up?"

Jareth raked a hand through his already unkempt silver-blond hair. "We make 'up' _relative_."

* * *

So this has been sitting (completed) in my Docs folder since June. I've got no excuse for taking so long.

Now, you may be thinking, "Maq, we waited ages and you gave us FILLER and OCs?" No, my dears. All of the interactions were necessary and none of the OCs will be returning. I needed to establish how out of place Sarah really is; 'Kimberly' and 'Zeke' show how Underground nobility view her (uncouth human!) while the Clerics see her as some kind of Wonder Woman. Brad is there because *somebody* had to speak English to convey to Sarah how the common rabble felt. I know I made him dumb, but not everyone spells properly, especially in their own diaries where they think no one will ever see. As for Sarah remembering gravity... Well, I learned that number when I was fourteen and still know it and I'm older than Sarah in the story and she learned it in college, so I think it's plausible.

Guys, this is CRAZY: A friend of mine is in Seattle for a tech conference and one of the museums up there shut down for just conference attendees. It has a fantasy/sci-fi wing. I got a text yesterday of her standing next to Jareth's outfit from the tunnels. The mannequin was even wearing the proper wig! ASDFGHJKL;

Next time:

Jareth is the BIGGEST ASSHOLE IN HISTORY and there are fancy napkins.

Plllllleeeeeeeeaaaaaaaassssseeeeeee leave a contribution in the little box. Make it my belated birthday gift :)


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